


It'll Be Alright

by sylaise_lionheart



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22629142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylaise_lionheart/pseuds/sylaise_lionheart
Summary: Fenris wakes up sick and Hawke worries.
Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	It'll Be Alright

The absence of a bundled Fenris in his arms and the sound of guttural retching had Garrett Hawke stirring into the waking world albeit in a not-so-grateful way. He was not the type of person to enjoy disturbances, especially in his sleeping hours, more so with regards to his current profession as the Champion of Kirkwall. And the dream-- _Maker_ , it was a bloody fantastic one at that. However, the pungent stench of bile reached his nostrils, and whatever drowsiness was quickly chased away by concern. 

Hawke sat upright on the bed, slightly wincing at the slight ache upon the sudden action, and searched for his elven lover, who was too engrossed in expelling his stomach’s content at the chamberpot near the bedroom door. A frown crossed the Champion’s face as the mage gingerly abandoned his bed, slipped in his slippers, and called, “Fen?”

A pathetic grunt was the reply of his love, yet even that was drowned out by another round. Hawke’s heart twinged in sympathy at the sight of the trembling elf hunched over a red chamberpot. What happened? He was fine (and by that, he meant spent and sated like Hawke) last night. Was it dinner? But that wouldn’t make sense considering how they shared a meal together. 

Another round of horrid retching snapped the man out of his thoughts; Hawke was quick to rectify this mistake by rushing to his lover’s side and gently rubbing the elf’s back. The flinch did not go unnoticed; Hawke was quick to retract his hand as if he’s burnt himself from a heated pot. “I- I’m sorry--”

Glancing away from the chamberpot after heaving a great deal, Fenris shook his head, weakly grasped the hand that shied away, and looked up at the man with his glazed forest eyes (which, as Merrill would like to call them, are definitely not puppy eyes). His throat sore, Fenris spoke, “Don’t be.”

The stare was short-lived, unfortunately, and Fenris returned to face the chamberpot once more. This time however Hawke was openly allaying the elf’s discomfort with the action he had intended to do not too long ago. A twinge of sympathy struck when Fenris had to forcefully heave the remains out, and when all was quiet, he covered Fen’s temple with the palm of his hand. “You have a fever.”

“So it would seem,” dryly replied Fenris. 

The Champion peeked at the content of the chamberpot and furrowed his brows in concern upon noticing how the bile has filled at least half of the pot. “I should call Anders.”

“Don’t,” tersely snapped Fenris despite his weakened state, “I am fine, Hawke.”

“Define ‘fine’ if you will, love,” Hawke retorted. Of course, Fen’s stubbornness will prevail over health. At his lover’s grunt, Hawke continued, “Fen, please, if you can’t do this for yourself, do it for me. I’m worried about you.” 

No reply came, even after Fenris was finished emptying his stomach at the moment and was now leaning against Hawke’s touch for comfort. When moments passed and silence enshrouded them for several seconds, Hawke tugged his lover closer to his chest, so that his prickly elf may rest after the hassle. Thankfully Fenris did not rebel against this act as he fluttered his eyes shut and sighed. “I am fine. There’s no need to call the mage.”

“Fen, I love you from the bottom of my heart,” Hawke replied, to which the other hummed in response, “but I’m not buying that excuse.”

A prolonged sigh escaped from the elf, a response the Champion had anticipated. Fenris shifted, chamberpot forgotten, to find a more comfortable position on Hawke’s lap and wrapped his mid-section with his arms. Had Hawke been dozing off or inattentive, he would not have caught the accepting words: “Couldn’t you handle it yourself?”

Hawke knew a bit of healing, but his skill stood no chance compared to Anders. On the other hand, he could opt for a more traditional remedy to assuage Fenris’ discomfort of magic. With a sigh, he complied, “Fine, my grumpy lovable elf. But if things get worse, I’m fetching Anders.”

Too drained to leave a proper reply, Fenris hummed in response, grunting when his warmth began to shuffle away from him. He cracked an eye open, ready to express his disappointment, only for that to be replaced with shock and a loud “Hawke!” when the aforementioned man stood up from the floor and swoop the ill elf into his arms.

“What?” Hawke feigned innocence, his grin widening when his lover’s glare soured in annoyance. “I’m just taking you to bed. No harm there, is there?”

“My illness has not affected my mobility, Hawke,” Fenris deadpanned, fondly exasperated at the goof-of-a-man he considered as his half. 

“Has it?” teased the other. Well, if Fenris was indeed capable of walking, he would not have the opportunity to do so considering how Hawke has already crossed the room with celerity and stood by their bed. 

Their, Hawke thought, his heart palpitating at the word. He did not feel the unconscious smile forming on the corner of his lips, for the warmth blossoming in his bosom was enough for him to thank the Maker for being together with the broody elf he had long been infatuated with ever since the warrior stepped into the mage’s view. 

“Hawke?” At the sound of his name, Garrett culled himself away from his train of thoughts. Maker, since when had he become this ruminating? Fenris must’ve been affecting him more than he’d like to admit. He blinked and smiled at the elf who was now looking at him with large, doe eyes brimming with concern. Those are definitely puppy eyes. 

“Yes?” Hawke asked. He could see the question in his lover’s eyes, asking if he was alright and if his beloved’s welfare agitates him deeply. He could see another clouding in as well, one that speaks of doubt and uncertainty mainly on Fenris’ behalf; for even now, his lover cannot grasp that his own needs and wants were worth coddling. That Danarius was dead brought a sense of satisfaction to the Champion. That bastard won’t bother Fenris any time soon. 

But none of those questions were directed at him verbally (perhaps Fenris, in the middle of his rumination, had realized his worth?); instead, what was directed was a simple, guileless question: “Will you put me down now?” 

“No,” deadpanned Hawke in the most jovial tone, which roughly earned him a shove on the face and an adorable, feigned, disapproving look. Guffawing, Hawke nevertheless laid the elf down on the bed and covered his body with the crimson blanket, much to the slight agitation from the elf.

“I can take care of myself, Hawke,” Fenris sighed, even if he knew that it would still fall on deaf ears, and made himself comfortable underneath the covers. Not that he was complaining, but excessive coddling was another territory completely. 

Hawke felt light-weight upon seeing how comfortable (ignoring the disease, of course) Fenris was in his own bed. It was like seeing the twins cuddled with one another in their own bed back in Lothering when the night was young and his parents long retired to their beds. To see them smiling again in their youthful years, now that was a desire he knew as wishful thinking. He leaned down, leaving a messy kiss on the elf’s forehead, and murmured against olive skin, ‘I know.”

“ 'M yours,” returned the elf as he was all-too-ready to fall back into the embrace of the Fade after a taxing morning. 

“You’ll be fine, I swear.” With those words exchange, Hawke gingerly caressed the elf’s cheek before quietly departing from the room. Right, time to gather all the things he needed to remedy Fenris’ illness, and that would include a hearty soup, lots of love, and a good book. 

Yes, that's exactly what Fenris needed. 


End file.
